


Through Hardship to the Stars

by RedSkyNight



Category: Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Predators (2010)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Sexism (sort of), Blade Runner Style, Casual Robots, Cyber Noir, Disabled Character (Physical), Explicit Language, F/M, Government Experimentation, I'm shameless, Lab Sex, Laboratories, Medical Gore (not too graphic), Military Science Fiction, Multi, Near Future, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prosthetic Limbs, Tech Noir, The yautja don't understand that reference, Urban Dystopia, Well - Freeform, almost 300 years in the future, and Language Barrier, not much has really changed though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-04 05:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSkyNight/pseuds/RedSkyNight
Summary: Per aspera ad astra, through hardship to the stars.The year is 2289, two hundred years post the Precision Horizons Corporation’s takeover of most of the developed world, and Doctor Aisling Murphey, an astrobiologist, comes face-to-face with a Yautja hunting trio. Too bad it’s from behind a glass barrier.Struggling with her duty to her job, her growing discomfort with the ethical implications of her study, and her less-than-professional interest in her subjects, Dr. Murphey has to make decisions that will forever alter her life and her area of study.Things can only get worse with Fynn Mercer, a Precision Horizons science liaison, breathing down her neck.Guanbhu'jade and his partners aren't exactly thrilled either.





	Through Hardship to the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a completely shameless xenophiliac who's majoring in astrobiology, so this actually incorporates some of the studies and material I've learned so far. 
> 
> (cryin right now because autocorrect wants to change xenophiliac to _necrophiliac_. like no sweaty those are different)

“Director Zweifel needs you to come in early today.”

Aisling Murphey rolled over, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Five in the morning. Too early to care about anything, including her job. “Tell Doctor MacKenna to get over his cold and come in.”

Alex, the assistant director of the Center for Astrobiological Studies scoffed, “MacKenna couldn’t think his way out of a wet paper bag. He’s not who Zweifel needs. Doesn’t have the security clearance either.”

Aisling swung her legs over the bed, brows raising. Anyone who worked at CAS had to have high clearance to do practically anything in the building. Hell, even the cooks had to be interviewed and cleared for service. She pulled her spiraling curls into a band, dragging her fingers through knots that promised pain when she tried to style them later. “Fine. How early?”

“You’ve got four hours. There’s a shipment coming in.” The line clicked, and Aisling exhaled in disbelief. The director knew she worked closer to night. She rolled in when most of the other scientists were clocking out. Night time was Aisling’s prime time. Well. At least she had time to get ready.

An hour later, Aisling was leaving her apartment complex in her white and blue CAS regulation uniform, her freshly shined boots reflecting the bright neon lights of the city around her. Disastrous pollution had made big cities like Progress stuck in permanent twilight and rain, brightened with the artificial lights of advertisements and the massive T.V screens that covered entire sides of skyscrapers.

After 2086, when New York City had been firebombed, the Corporation had taken over. Rebuilt the city to their specifications. Changed its name and erased the history behind it. Aisling only knew because her father, who had worked as a Public Relations manager for the Precision Horizons Corporation, had insisted that she needed to know what had happened in the wake of the War. The proof of the Corporation’s far-reaching power was omnipresent, be it the guards that were posted at the intersection she walked through or the advertisements promising _‘A better tomorrow on the horizon with Precision Horizons.’_ If a person worked for a company, they worked for The Company.

She had seen the history books once, ancient looking things, the language unfamiliar to her, but her father had told her of democratic governments and people free to talk as they liked, without the risk of Disappearing.

Aisling skirted a puddle, stepping through stinking, wet trash. When it rained like this, she wished more than ever that she had moved to some remote mountain like her parents had. Somewhere where sticking her hand out to catch the rain wouldn’t result in a first degree burn.

She pointedly turned her head away from the scene of a Corp soldier beating a man while his partner searched a large duffel bag. It was better not to see. The people around her seemed to agree, giving the trio a wide berth as they continued, like fish in a river to their singular destination. The Corporation.

Catching sight of the teal and pink sign she had been looking for, she ducked into the Nova Cafe.

“Aisling!” A man’s voice called from behind the counter. She waved a hand, carefully shaking her umbrella and depositing it in the stand. The inside of the cafe was sleek, white and pink, bright in comparison to the dusky city of Progress.

“Hey Jer, what’s the news this morning?” She slid into a seat at the counter, eyes catching on a duo sitting in the back corner. Their behavior was observant. Only two groups in the city looked around the way they looked around. The Corporation’s spies, or the Insurrection’s.

Jerard ‘Jer’ McClellan had been Aisling’s friend and near constant companion since he’d beaten some Insurrection thugs for her after they’d seen her CAS badge, marking her as an agent of the Corporation. Those had been the days where she was still getting used to her prosthetics, before the was comfortable in her mismatched skin. He’d been great, as their similar experiences had kept them in contact, and they’d grown closer, to the point that she ended up coming to his cafe nearly every day. The man motioned to the holo screen behind the bar as he handed her her favorite latte. It was playing some sponsored news broadcast slash propaganda program. “Well, I guessed you wouldn’t’ve seen it yet, but lass, it seems like somethin’ really bad went down in the Congo, and the Company’s been havin’ some trouble explainin’ it away.”

The Congo. They had both served there, overseas. At different times, but the permeating rumor surrounding disappearances and strange events had reached them both. Africa had been a problem area for the Corporation, with the bloom of the Insurrection beginning in the south and working its way up. Most of the continent was still in turmoil, even after nearly half a century of on-again, off-again war.  Something happening, especially a negative event that was heard on the news, was a big thing. It was rare that the Corporation allowed a stain on their shining, sleek image. “What happened?” Aisling asked, sipping the chocolatey drink, savoring the rich flavor on her tongue. Cacao had been gone for decades, but the flavor had been almost perfectly replicated before its extinction, and Aisling was glad for it.

Jer came from around the bar to watch the screen with her, sliding into the stool that separated her from a scruffy looking man who seemed ready to fall asleep in his coffee. “Well. If the report is t’ be believed, the Corporation has blown up their base in the Democratic Republic.” Aisling raised a delicate mahogany brow in disbelief. “Yeah, I didn’ think so either.” He took a sip from his cup, rolling his eyes as the pretty, blonde woman on the screen asserted that there was no trouble in the Congo, and that the war would be over in a matter of months. They had been saying that for decades. “Some videos were up for a couple of hours after the event. Looks like the place got decimated. Leveled in less than an hour.” The scruffy man to the left of Jer was now openly watching them, along with the duo in the corner booth. Definitely Corporation security. Aisling cut her eyes to the back of the cafe, drawing Jerard’s attention. His hazel eyes narrowed, the crow’s feet around them darkening as he heeded her warning, lowering his voice.

“By what?”

“Lord only knows. There were shadows on the footage slicin’ people up, though. It can’t been Insurrection, their tech ain’t that good.” He glanced over his shoulder, watching the spies turn back to their coffee, pretending to be disinterested.

Aisling hummed, looking at one of the stock clips of the burning compound. She’d been there, once. But most of her work had had her clearing out hostiles from deep in the Congo Basin. “Should we be worried? An entire compound? That’s no small feat.”

Jer scoffed. “Oh, yeah, Progress is the first place that they would head for.”

“Don’t laugh,” the curly haired woman commanded, grinning all the same. “Progress is a capital city.”

“It’s always the _fucking_ Corporation.” the voice had both Alising and Jerard turning to look at the man seated at the end of the counter. “What?” He asked angrily. “Those bastards are definitely hiding all kinds of shit from us. Who knows what the fuck they had happening down there. I’m glad their goddamn base exploded. That’s a few hundred less _assembly-line soldiers_ to worry about coming back to step on the rest of us.”

Aisling eyes the hostile man, his patchy beard and worn, unkempt appearance. A runner, probably, and not a smart one. Behind the irate line of his shoulder, she saw the two people who had been sitting in the corner rise up, and caught the shine of a gun at each of their waists.

“C’mon, man! You don't mean that,” Jerard had seen the soldiers too, and was busy separating the two of them from the stranger who was about to get them detained. “Don’t be stupid!” He hissed as the soldiers advanced, coming up behind the Insurrection runner.

Customers had frozen in place to watch the scene in terrified silence. It wasn’t unusual to have confrontations like that in public, but it wasn’t something people got used to, unless you had experienced a confrontation life it firsthand. Jer and Aisling were old pros in that matter.

With the clack of heeled boots, the soldiers stepped forward, and the shorter one brought out a set of handcuffs. “Sir, please lower your hands a come with us.” She said, pressing her gun into the small of his back.

The stranger’s face faltered, fear overtaking his rage. When the other came to grab his hands, he panicked and lashed out.

A shot from the female soldier’s gun stunned him, bringing him to the floor. In seconds they had cuffed the man and hauled him up. The woman threw a wad of credits onto the counter, and allowed the door to slam shut behind her.

Aisling relaxed back into her seat. “What an idiot. Who’s that loud about disapproval these days?”

Jerard slipped back behind the counter, taking the man’s unfinished coffee and plate to the sink for the bus boy to wash. “Must’ve been near suicidal. Those goons were impossible to miss.” He rolled his eyes, collecting the credits and counting them. “Better ways to off yourself, though.” He whistled, eying the credits. “They must’ve really been wantin’ him though, she tipped twenty Creds!”

Aisling nodded in agreement, and turned back to her coffee, taking her phone out to browse the assorted news sites, all different enough to seem like there were actual individual opinions in each of them. With enough digging, however, all of the news companies were the same. Most were business as usual, reporting on the trial of some ‘Insurrection leader’ (there was always a captured ‘leader’ when moral was low) or the unveiling of a new monument or building. A few focused on the destruction of the Congo base, but it was a peripheral thing, with no real questions, only the answers that the Corporation wanted them to publish.

“Meant to ask,” Jer started, handing her a fresh cup, “you don’t drag your freckled ass in here ‘til eight at night. Why are you up so early?”

“Emergency call in. I don’t know any details yet. The assistant director themself called me at six.”

Jer leaned on the counter. “Serious business?”

“Beats me.”

He laughed. “Well, with your specialty, it must be something interesting.”

Aisling rose from the stool, depositing her credits on the counter. “Probably just want me to run some tests on some shitty rocks.”

When she stepped into the main commons area at the entrance of the lab an hour later, Aisling was greeted with more security than she had ever seen in her life. The stood at attention against the walls and at the doors, their black uniforms and metal masks standing out in the sterile white of the CAS laboratory walls.

"Doctor Murphey, good morning." Aisling turned to look at the tall, slender figure of the assistant director, their usually neat, platinum hair falling in front of their eyes. 

From the look on Assistant Director Keeler’s face, it wasn’t rocks she’d been called in to look at.

“You’ve been reassigned.” They stated, handing her a new badge before leading her away.

“Reassigned?”

“Starting immediately.” Keeler’s face was pale, their eyes tired and a little scared. Usually, their appearance was the pristine androgyny that had Aisling looking like a street urchin. Today, their hair was loose and messy, clothes ruffled, and not in a stylish way.

“Alex,” Aisling started, “what’s happening?”

“Something big, Doctor Murphey. Your job is about to mean something.”


End file.
